Bright Lotus Master
"Hup!"
In the dark, silent underground chamber of Geumjeonggak, Tang Mujin thrust his arm forward. It was a basic form of Blue Mulberry Fist.
According to Bright Lotus Master, the Blue Mulberry Fist was a style even the secular disciples of the Mount Emei Sect often practiced.
But whether it was right to call it a fist technique was debatable.
Though it bore the name of a fist art, less than half of its movements actually used fists. Far more often it relied on spear-hands, knife-hands, and palm strikes.
The problem was that the Blue Mulberry Fist consisted solely of movements that were excessively simple and concise. There were no difficult or intricate motions, no techniques carrying profound mysteries.
Still, Tang Mujin quietly devoted himself to training in it. He had nothing else to do, nor did he know of any other way to keep his inner demon at bay.
And perhaps because it was a Buddhist martial art, now and then, while practicing, he sensed a feeling reminiscent of White Lotus Divine Fist or Buddha's Shadow Immortal Steps. It must have been the righteous essence—subduing evil and upholding justice—that lingered in Shaolin martial arts.
Then, a thought came to him.
"Wouldn't it be better to practice White Lotus Divine Fist instead of Blue Mulberry Fist?"
It was a persuasive notion. The White Lotus Divine Fist was a higher-level art, while the Blue Mulberry Fist was merely for beginners. Surely the righteous essence would be stronger in the former.
But he wasn't certain. In the end, Tang Mujin continued refining the Blue Mulberry Fist.
***
After training in it for more than ten days, Tang Mujin felt something strange. Just once, it seemed as though his spear-hand strike had moved swifter and sharper than usual.
"Huh?"
The feeling was fleeting, gone in an instant. But Tang Mujin recognized it.
It was the same sensation he'd felt the very first time he discovered the essence of Point and extended his sword.
Why had he felt it, and in such an unfamiliar spear-hand technique?
The answer was simple. If Point was a thrust with the sword, then the spear-hand was a thrust with the fingertips.
The two techniques shared the same essence.
Tang Mujin tried again. The fleeting feeling did not return.
But he wasn't impatient. Just as he had once grasped Point, the feeling would surely return in time.
Three days later, it did—his second spear-hand strike carried that same sensation. The next day, a third. And a week later, all his spear-hands felt satisfactory.
Only then did Tang Mujin realize something.
Until now, he had always focused only on techniques that were complex, profound, and powerful.
Was it because Goiyi had been able to unleash extraordinary forms that he was always stronger?
No. Goiyi had only ever used Self-Heart Sword, and most of his fist and palm strikes were basic forms.
Yet even when they used the same techniques, Goiyi's were always faster and stronger.
The only form in which Tang Mujin could claim to have caught up with him was Point.
The refinement of a martial art was important.
But more important still was whether one could fully draw out the potential of even the simplest form.
His father's words came back to him.
"More illnesses can be treated with common herbs like plantain or licorice than with rare and costly ones like agarwood or musk. If you know how to apply each herb properly, you'll seldom need to rely on the rare ones."
His father had known nothing of martial arts—his words had been about medicine.
But just as Point and the spear-hand overlapped, so too did medicine and martial arts share the same underlying truth.
"I should start again, honing even the simplest techniques."
In the dim underground of Geumjeonggak, Tang Mujin once more immersed himself in the Blue Mulberry Fist.
***
Dan Seol-yeong and Namgung Myeong grew uneasy watching him.
When they first visited him, once every five days or so, Tang Mujin had been full of complaints about life underground. He'd grumbled about the boredom, about not knowing when he could leave.
But before long, he had grown calmer, and now he acted as though he had no complaints at all—almost as if drugged.
Dan Seol-yeong asked,
"How is it? Do you think you're finally shaking off the inner demon?"
"No. I don't really know."
"But you've been training in Blue Mulberry Fist diligently, haven't you? Doesn't anything feel different?"
"I can tell the technique has the property of repelling demonic energy. But… I don't feel any demonic energy being pushed out."
"…Then what will you do from here?"
Tang Mujin thought.
He had no meat dishes, but meals came regularly. No one pestered him.
He didn't have to work, and training was enjoyable. When he grew bored, Namgung Myeong and Dan Seol-yeong visited him. For now, it was tolerable.
"I don't know. I'll just keep training for now. Whether it's Blue Mulberry Fist or White Lotus Divine Fist, if I master it fully, maybe I'll be freed from the inner demon."
"Are you sure?"
"…Not really. But Bright Lotus Master wouldn't have locked me away without reason."
Dan Seol-yeong reached through the bars to grasp his hand. Somehow, she felt pitiful.
It was like being widowed before the marriage was even consummated.
Another woman might have broken down and wept from such despair.
But Dan Seol-yeong was not so soft-hearted. In hopeless situations, she didn't collapse—she held her head and searched for a way forward.
Clasping his hand tightly, she said,
"Just wait a little. I'll get you out."
***
Five days later, Dan Seol-yeong appeared at Mount Emei with Namgung Myeong and Hwang Lingzi in tow.
No matter how bold she was, she couldn't raise her voice alone in the Mount Emei Sect.
She shouted at Bright Lotus Master.
"Give me back my husband! You've locked him up without end, and he hasn't improved at all. How can you treat a person like this?"
"…I heard you have not yet held a wedding ceremony with Tang Shizhu."
"Ceremony or not, we're practically husband and wife! Do you think I came all the way from Henan to Sichuan without reason?"
Even Hwang Lingzi hesitated but added,
"We of Qingcheng Sect can look after Tang Shaoxia again. Could you release him?"
In truth, no one was in a more awkward position than Hwang Lingzi.
He had guided Tang Mujin to Mount Emei as an act of kindness—yet it now seemed he had escorted a prisoner into captivity.
Fortunately, Tang Mujin had not voiced any complaints. But if more time passed, who knew?
Still, Bright Lotus Master flatly refused.
"Enter demon, never leave. Once one harbors the demonic, he may enter Mount Emei, but he cannot leave."
"What do you mean? Elder Hwang Lingzi said before that there was no demonic energy in Mujin's body!"
Bright Lotus Master's expression did not change.
"Would a man without demonic energy fall into inner demon possession? It has merely seeped in so subtly that it is difficult to detect. All the more dangerous for it."
Dan Seol-yeong cried out in exasperation.
"So if he has demonic energy, he can't be released, and if he doesn't, you still won't release him because it's hidden? What are we supposed to do?"
"He must expel the demonic energy and break free of the inner demon."
"That Blue-whatever Fist, it hasn't helped at all!"
From the side, Hwang Lingzi corrected her gently.
"Miss Dan. Not Blue City Fist, but Blue Mulberry Fist."
"Whatever!"
Bright Lotus Master remained firm.
"If he had never set foot in Mount Emei, it would be another matter. But since he has, we cannot allow someone tied to us to leave and wreak havoc outside."
"Bright Lotus Master, think of my position. Tang Shaoxia has countless duties awaiting him."
Hwang Lingzi pressed again. His name carried more weight in the martial world, but in this matter, the decision lay entirely with Bright Lotus Master.
Too much depended on Tang Mujin.
Somehow, word had spread, and the blacksmiths now loitered resentfully around the Buddha Forge, casting disapproving looks at Jin Song and Hwang Lingzi.
Tang Jeseon fretted day and night that his son would suffer even greater misfortune.
And Jin Song was troubled too. At least Hwang Lingzi had received a sword. But Jin Song hadn't, and the thought left him restless.
"It cannot be."
Bright Lotus Master shook her head.
She bore no malice.
But since the days of the previous Geumjeonggak Master until now, Tang Mujin was the first ever locked underground for inner demon possession.
Worse, the previous Master had died unexpectedly, leaving behind no instructions on how to treat it.
In such circumstances, Bright Lotus Master had only one course:
To rely on the scant records that remained, and to uphold the established rules strictly.
Blue Mulberry Fist practice and Enter Demon, Never Leave.
The discussion was going nowhere, circling back upon itself.
Dan Seol-yeong clenched her fists in frustration, ready to lash out.
Namgung Myeong calmed her.
"Hold it."
"Hold it? Why should I—!"
"Trust me. Five days at the shortest, ten at the longest—Mujin will be released."
"…How?"
"I have a way."
Dan Seol-yeong reluctantly backed down.
But Myeongryeon Satae snorted as if the very idea were ridiculous. Unless Tang Mujin completely eradicated the inner demon, she had no intention of releasing him—not in ten days, not even in ten years.
However, Namgung Myeong knew someone who could solve the problem.
Ten days later, Namgung Myeong entered the Amitabha Sect with a person wearing a bamboo hat.
The person in the bamboo hat was short, dressed plainly and simply. The only noticeable thing was the long white hair spilling out beneath the hat.
The person kept glancing around constantly.
"It's been fifty years since I last came here, yet nothing has improved. If anything, everything seems only more decrepit. Do you see that half-collapsed building over there?"
"Yes, I see it."
"That building is called Mannyeonggak. They said they'd repair it right away, yet it seems they still haven't. Or perhaps they did repair it once, and it's fallen apart again?"
"In any case, it looks dangerous, so the result is much the same."
"Exactly. That's what I was getting at. You're quick to catch my meaning—good."
"Heheh."
Namgung Myeong cautiously, obsequiously humored his companion.
The person he had brought was Haryeong.
After leaving the Amitabha Sect, Haryeong abandoned the Buddhist path and, no longer a nun, had also set aside the sobriquet "Hwayeon Sini."
But regardless of circumstances, Haryeong's authority could not help but carry weight within the sect.
She had not left as an enemy, storming out in hatred. And if one traced back far enough, there were many disciples who had once received her teachings. Few things are as powerful as connections, no matter the place.
At last, the two reached the stairway leading down to the underground chambers of Geumjeonggak.
An old door blocked their way.
"Please wait here a moment. I'll call for Myeongryeon Satae."
"Myeongryeon Satae?"
"Yes. The Dharma name of Geumjeonggak's master. She should have the key."
"…No, that won't be necessary."
"Pardon?"
Haryeong lowered her head, staring at the door, while Namgung Myeong carefully studied her expression.
Though her face was hidden beneath the hat, she radiated deep disapproval.
"Look at this. How badly neglected must it be, to the point the wood is rotting and looks ready to collapse?"
"It certainly does."
"To make a new door like this takes but a few coins at most. No—money isn't even needed. Just some well-dried lumber and one diligent monk would be enough to craft and set it within a day or two. Has Amitabha Sect no diligent monks left…?"
After grumbling for a while, Haryeong lifted her right foot and stamped the ground with Jin-gak.
Boom—
A low tremor spread outward, shaking the earth.
It was such a light vibration that most monks passing nearby didn't even realize what had happened.
But the underground door to Geumjeonggak was another story.
It shattered into splinters, as though smashed full-force by a giant wielding an iron hammer.
Haryeong spoke in a satisfied tone.
"This is a fine chance to replace it with a new one."
"You're quite right. But before we release Mujin, we should probably inform the master of Geumjeonggak."
"Why?"
"Otherwise, she might misunderstand. If she thinks Mujin, possessed by demonic energy, somehow broke free, that would be troublesome. She might even try to recapture him."
"I'd prefer to check Tang Mujin's condition first… No matter. Go fetch her quickly."
Just as Namgung Myeong turned to call Myeongryeon Satae, someone came running with light-footed movement technique.
As the saying goes, speak of the tiger and it appears—it was Myeongryeon Satae, master of Geumjeonggak.
She had sensed the sudden burst of Jin-gak and hurried straight to its source.
Her eyes caught sight of the shattered door, then the familiar face of Namgung Myeong, and finally the cascade of white hair flowing beneath the hat.
Myeongryeon Satae tensed immediately.
Someone with white hair could only mean one of two things: an old person, or a demonic martial master.
Depigmentation was a common side-effect of training in demonic arts—skin turning pale, hair bleaching white. That's why so many infamous names bore the character "White" (白): White-Faced Blood Sword, White-Eyed Ghost, White-Haired Yama, and so on.
Myeongryeon Satae shouted.
"Stop! What do you think you're doing within temple grounds?"
"So you're Myeongryeon Satae? I was just about to send for you—"
White hair. But the voice was not that of an old person. Her mind raced.
'So this is what was meant by Tang's release within ten days? They brought in a demonic master to break him out by force?'
The moment she reached her conclusion, she unleashed a lion's roar.
"Begone!"
Her martial cultivation was at the entry to the peak realm. A formidable master, though not absolute. There was a fair chance her opponent might surpass her.
But this was Bokhosa. No matter how notorious a demonic master, none could stand alone against all the Amitabha Sect's warriors. Confidence filled her voice as she pressed on.
"Insolent wretch! Do you know where you dare set foot? You will not leave here alive!"
By now, the sect's experts, having felt the Jin-gak, and its nuns, drawn by the lion's roar, had surrounded the three.
The situation had grown far more serious than intended, and Namgung Myeong hurriedly tried to explain.
"Myeongryeon Satae, please calm yourself. We were just on our way to see you."
But Haryeong's feelings were different.
She had come half-hoping to see familiar faces again, to revisit memories of the Amitabha Sect.
Yet what greeted her was a barrage of insults in front of a crowd. The gulf between what she imagined and the reality was far too wide.
Haryeong muttered.
"…Insolent? Arrogant? Not leave alive?"
She stepped forward. Just a small step.
But to Myeongryeon Satae and the onlookers, it felt like being pushed back by an invisible wall—they all involuntarily retreated one pace.
Haryeong raised a finger, pointing at Myeongryeon Satae.
"You—Myeongryeon, was it? Go bring me Jongsun. At once."
"Jongsun? Who is that?"
Even in her days as a nun, Haryeong had never been known for gentleness.
As "Hwayeon Sini" she had managed to maintain a certain calm for the sake of appearances, but her innate temper had never truly changed.
And for fifty long years, she had lived among the downtrodden, caring for them.
She had changed those people, yes—but they had changed her a little too.
Or perhaps not changed her, but restored her to what she always was.
Take, for example, her manner of speech.
"Your headmaster. Wi Jongsun. Go fetch her, you bitch."
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE: https://payhip.com/pokemon1920